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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708869">Decisions to Make, Dust to Settle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pres310/pseuds/Pres310'>Pres310</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck, Vast Error</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agender Murrit, Autistic Dismas, Autistic Murrit, Character Growth, Domestic Fluff, Dont ask how I forgot jenthas last name, M/M, Other, Trans Character, couldnt be me, i dont even know, imagine being neurotypical, let Dismas be happy 2020, top surgery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pres310/pseuds/Pres310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a week until Arcjec's birthday, and a pair of trolls has some decisions to make from the surprising comfort of their own hive.</p><p>My first attempt at a multi-chapter fic with these two, we'll see how that goes. Dismas is healing from top surgery, Murrit is contemplating his own gender presentation and identity, and both of them are trying to figure out if they really want to tell the gang that they've kind of fallen in love with each other. And neither of them are really used to being worried about other things other than death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dismas Mersiv &amp; Jentha, Dismas Mersiv/Murrit Turkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Decisions to Make, Dust to Settle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had this idea in my mind for a while- just never wrote it out until now.</p><p>I would definitely suggest listening to "Last Words of a Shooting Star" by Mitski (or maybe "Dear Wormwood" by The Oh Hello's, or possibly "How to Rest" By The Crane Wives) while reading this chapter. Something soft, yet sad and nervous- a little unsure.</p><p>Also! I tried to write Jentha's stutter as respectfully as possible, but I'm always open to criticism on that as I do not have a stutter myself!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a pitch couple, it's awfully tender.</p><p><br/>        That's the first thing Jentha noticed. She briefly broke away from the celebratory group to check in with her moirail- who’d broken away from the group a little while earlier to collect his thoughts in a quieter space- and said moirail’s suspiciously missing and even more suspiciously calm Kismesis. She really didn't even mean to intrude on something, and the surprise was what froze her in place. And surprise her, the scene did, in a way that she couldn't define as either good or bad.</p><p><br/>        Murrit’s hands- now ghostly Violet, bones so unnervingly visible through glassy flesh (Murrit said something about paying for stolen time, Jentha hadn't fully been listening)- were held out, palms up, and were… shaking? Jentha blinked a few times, and yeah- they were shaking all the same. She followed them up to see uncharacteristic unease on Murrit’s face, his obnoxious shades having fallen down just far enough that she could see the almost nervous crease of his eyebrows. His mouth wasn't quirked into his usual shark-tooth grin. It twisted something in Jentha and it was somehow worse and more skin-crawling than seeing him smiling then. He almost seemed… childish wasn't the right word. He seemed off at that moment. Completely at the mercy of somebody else in a way that he wanted but didn't know how to want. Jentha didn't even feel familiar with her own skin at that moment; and it wasn't just the sunny fabric that she still wasn't used to. She felt like she was intruding on something and it wasn't a more unfamiliar feeling to her.</p><p><br/>         Her emotions softened slightly when she saw Dismas; he didn't seem bothered… in fact, Jentha dared to say that he had the same nervous expression, but he seemed almost happier. Just a little bit; just enough that it's noticeable to her. The corner of her mouth flicked up into a smile for him, but it was betrayed by the strangeness of the scene; Repitonian society fought hard in a tug of war with her pale feelings for Dismas, both sides stuck with hard traction. Dismas seemed to be cupping Murrit’s limp hand with one of his own, His other hand gently tracing over the visible bones of his partner’s palm. When his fingers drifted  to Murrit’s wrist, he lingered there for just a moment, brushing a thumb over the inside of the seadweller’s wrist. He said something Jentha couldn't quite make out, before- oh shit- calling Jentha over.</p><p><br/>        Jentha walked over of course, she wasn't about to leave her moirail hanging. And as much as she disliked Murrit, he didn't exactly seem to be in the mood to actually be as catty as usual (though she did notice that something shifted in him the closer she got; like sliding on a pair of glasses without moving). Maybe the newfound ghost hands had something to do with it.</p><p><br/>        “Hey D-Dismas,” though she wasn't particularly anxious, consonants still got stuck in her mouth no matter what her emotions were. “T-Tur-Turkin.”</p><p><br/>        “Morning to you too, Jenth,” Murrit flashed a pair of finger guns to end all finger guns (the bones aspect was probably what had the gesture beat). Dismas huffed out a brief laugh, but shifted his weight in his seat nervously. Jentha caught the way his eyes subtly shifted to look around them.</p><p><br/>        “Hey, Jentha,” He tried to sound casual but let's face it, Dismas had never had a casual encounter in his life. “You uhh… you doing alright?”</p><p><br/>         “Yeah, ‘m d-doing just-t f-f-fine,” She shrugged. “You w-were j-j-just gone f-f-for a c-coup-couple minutes longer th-than I thought-t you’d be, so I th-tho-thought I’d drop by n’ ch-check in.” Murrit was suspiciously quiet during this. She thought he might have been blushing- but turns out, her glasses were definitely dirtier than she’d originally thought, because what she thought was a violet flush to most of his skin… was a ton of fading scars. </p><p><br/>        “I’m… actually doing kind of good right now? It's weird,” Dismas rolled his shoulders back. “I was just about to return, actually; I know Murrit and I kinda needed a minute as well, so…” he trailed off, gesturing to something that Jentha didn't understand and wouldn't pry at. But she wasn't nearly as masterful at containing her facial expressions as she thought.</p><p><br/>        “I mean- you wanna be the one to tell her?” Murrit whispered, seeing the confused expression Jentha tried to play off.</p><p><br/>        “Tell me what?”</p><p><br/>        “Oh shit-” he didn't sound particularly upset, just caught off guard, and that's about when Jentha noticed that his bandana was definitely off and it was most definitely hastily tied around Murrit’s neck. Jentha definitely wasn't going to ask about that. “I uhh… didn't exactly expect this to come up now, but I- I kinda owe it to you to tell you, since you're my moirail and all-”</p><p><br/>        “Wh-What is it?” Jentha sat down, tone softening slightly despite the part of her that bristled at Murrit’s general presence.</p><p><br/>        “Okay, so uhh- huh,” Dismas pressed his eyes shut, humming as he gathered his words. He then leaned back and fell softly on the grass with a groan. “Murrit and I are Matesprits now- I do not think I could physically explain how that happened so please don't ask.” That was enough to earn a collective laugh from the group, Jentha’s more out of nervous reflex than anything. And in the end of that tug of war- pale feelings won out because they always would.</p><p><br/>        “Holy shit,” Jentha spoke slowly, before glancing between the two. “Hooolllyy shit,” she drew out.</p><p><br/>        “You sound surprised,” Murrit sarcastically said, which earned him a playful flick from Dismas to his knee.</p><p><br/>        “I mean I am,” Jentha reeled back. “Of-f all the th-th-things that could ha-ha-have come out of that g-g-g-game, I think that's the one I expected the least…” she paused “...b-b-b-but I'm happy for you two. You both l-l-llllook like you're k-kind of working this out- a-and I'm p-pr-proud of b-both of you.”</p><p><br/>        “Even little ol’ me?” Murrit jokingly raised a hand to his chest and batted his eyelashes in some obnoxious way.</p><p><br/>        “Eh, don't p-p-push your luck.”</p>
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